MISREPRESENTATIVE 



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Misrepresentative 
Women 




"-^For long with horror she has viewed 
The naked Truth for being nude " 



MISREPRESENTATIVE 
WOMEN 

By Harry Graham 

Author of ^^Misrepre^ntdtive Men'''' 

and *^More Misrepresentative Men'''* 

ft- 

illustrated by 
Dan Sayre Groesbeck 




NEW YORK 

DuFFiELD & Company 

MCMVI 



LiBKARY of CONGRESS 

Two Copies Received 
SEP 24 1906 

n Ccpyrififht Entrv 
CLASS A XXc, No. 
COPTB. ' 






Copyright, iqo6, by 

DUFFIELD & COMPANY 

Pziblished, September, 190b 



Contents 



PAGE 

Publishers' Preface ■ . 7 

Eve 13 

Lady Godiva 19 

Miss Marie Corelli 27 

Mrs. Mary Baker Eddy ........ 35 

Mrs. Grundy 41 

Mrs., Christopher Columbus 49 

Dame Rumor 57 

The Cry of the Children 63 

The Cry of the Elders 71 

An Epithalamium 79 

The Self-Made Father to His Ready-Made 

Son 85 

The "Author to His Hostess 91 

On the Decline of Gentility Among the 

Young 97 

"Lochinvar" 103 

Abbreviation's Artful Aid . . « . . . . iii 

Author's Aftword 117 



List of Illustrations 



** For long with horror she has view e a 

The naked Truth for being nude^* .... frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

** Gentle Reader y who so patiently have waited'*'* lO 

** Her wardrobe, though extremely small, sufficed a somewhat 

simple need'** 14 

** At the Heart of her spouse she continued to storm'''* ... 20 
** Were she to mingle with her ink a little milk of human 

kindness** 28 

** And so he daily left her side to travel 0* er the ocean far** . 50 
" Where the spinsters at tea are collected, her arrival is hailed 

with delight** 5<^ 

** He is yearning for the chance of reading Gibbon** .... 64 
** How glad the happy pair must be that Hymen* s bonds have set 

them free ** 80 

♦*/ wonder why they look such frights** p2 

** Small wonder she receives a shock each time she views thy 

billycock** p<? 

** ^ She is mine!* he announces, adjourning to the distant horizon 

afar** 104 



Publishers Preface 



/^ ENTLE Reader, who so patiently 
^^^^ have waited 

For such viands as your poet can provide, 
(Which, as critics have occasionally stated, 

Must be trying to a delicate inside,) 
Once again are opportunities afforded 

Of a banquet, or a dejeuner at least. 
Once again your toleration is rewarded 
By a literary feast ! 



PUBLISHERS' PREFACE 



You may think that Rudyard Kipling's work 
is stronger. 
Or that Chaucer's may be rather more 
mature ; 
Byron's lyrics are indubitably longer, 

Robert Browning's just a trifle more 
obscure ; 
But 'tis certain that no poems are politer. 
Or more fitted for perusal in the 
home, 
Than the verses of the unassuming 
writer 

Of this memorable tome ! 

8 



PUBLISHERS' PREFACE 



Austin Dobson is a daintier performer, 

Andrew Lang is far more scholarly and 
wise, 
Mr. Swinburne can, of course, be somewhat 
warmer, 
Alfred Austin more amusing, if he 
tries; 
But there's no one in the world (and well 
you know it !) 
Who can emulate the bard of whom we 
speak. 
For the literary methods of our poet 
Are admittedly unique ! 

9 



PUBLISHERS' PREFACE 



Tho' he shows no sort of penitence at 
breaking 
Ev'ry rule of English grammar and of style, 
(Not a rhyme is too atrocious for his making. 

Not a metre for his purpose is too vile !) 
Tho' his treatment is essentially destructive, 
And his taste a thing that no one can 
admire. 
There is something incontestably seductive 
In the music of his lyre ! 

Gentle Reader, some apologies are needed 
For depositing this volume on your desk, 

lO 



(^ 







^^ Gentle Reader^ who so patiently have waited 



PUBLISHERS' PREFACE 



^ince the author has undoubtedly exceeded 
All the limits of legitimate burlesque, 

\nd we look with very genuine affection 
To a Public who, for better or for worse, 

^ill relieve us of this villainous collection 
Of abominable verse ! 



II 



Eve 



1 ALWAYS love to picture Eve, 
Whatever captious critics say. 
As one who was, as I believe, 
The nicest woman of her day; 
Attractive to the outward view. 
And such a perfect ladi/ too ! 

13 



EVE 

Unselfish, — that one can't dispute. 
Recalling her intense delight. 

When she acquired some novel fruit, 
In giving all her friends a bite; 

Her very troubles she would share 

With those who happened to be there. 

Her wardrobe, though extremely small, 
Sufficed a somewhat simple need ; 

She was, if anything at all, 
A trifle underdvessed^ indeed, 

And never visited a play 

In headgear known as " matinee." 

14 




tier luardrob 

a somewhat simple need 



though extremely smalL s 



ufficed 



EVE 

Possessing but a single beau^ 
With only one affaire de cceur^ 

She promptly married, as we know, 
The man who first proposed to her ; 

Not for his title or his pelf, 

But simply for his own sweet self. 

He loved her madly, at first sight; 

His callow heart was quite upset; 
He thought her nearly, if not quite. 

The sweetest soul he'd ever met ; 
She found him charming — for a man, 
And so their young romance began. 

15 



EVE 

Their wedding was a trifle tame — 

A purely family affair — - 
No guests were asked, no pressmen came 

To interview the happy pair; 
No crowds of curious strangers bored them, 
The ^^ Eden Journal" quite ignored them. 

They had the failings of their class, 

The faults and foibles of the youthful; 

She was inquisitive, alas! 

And he was — not exactly truthful; 

But never was there man or woman 

So truly, so intensely human! 

i6 



EVE 

And, hand in hand, from day to day, 
They lived and labored, man and wife; 

Together hewed their common way 
Along the rugged path of Life; 

Remaining, though the seasons pass'd, 

Friends, lovers, to the very last. 

So, side by side, they shared, these two. 
The sorrow and the joys of living; 

The Man, devoted, tender, true. 

The Woman, patient and forgiving; 

Their common toil, their common weather, 

But drew them closelier still together. 

17 



EVE 

And if they ever chanced to grieve, 
Enduring loss, or suff'ring pain, 

You may be certain it was Eve 

Brought comfort to their hearts again; 

If they WQVQ happy, well I know. 

It was the Woman made them so. 

• • • • • • 

And though the anthropologist 
May mention, in his tactless way, 

That Adam's weaknesses exist 
Among our modern Men to-day. 

In Women we may still perceive 

The virtues of their Mother Eve! 

i8 



Lady Godiva 



IN the old town of Coventry, so people 
say, 
Dwelt a Peer who was utterly lacking 

in pity; 
Universally loathed for the rigorous way 

That he burdened the rates of the City. 
By his merciless methods of petty taxation, 
The poor were reduced to the verge of star- 
vation. 

19 



LADY GODIVA 



But the Earl had a wife, whom the people 
adored. 
For her kindness of heart even more than 
her beauty, 

And her pitiless lord she besought and im- 
plored 
To remit this extortionate ^Muty"; 

But he answered: ''My dear, pray reflect at 
your leisure. 

What you deem a 'duty,' to me is a 
pleasure ! " 

At the heart of her spouse she continued to 

storm, 

20 




'S// the heart of her- spouse she continued 
to storm " 



LADY GODIVA 



And she closed her entreaties, one day, by 
exclaiming: — 
^' If you take off the tax, I will gladly perform 

Any task that you like to be naming ! " 
^'Well, if that be the case," said the noble- 
man, "I've a 
Good mind just to test you, my Lady Godiva ! 

"To your wishes, my dear, I will straight 

acquiesce. 
On the single condition — I give you fair 

warning — 
That you ride through the City, at noon, in 

the dress 

21 



LADY GODIVA 



That you wear in your bath of a morn- 
ing 



I" 



"Very well! " she replied. "Be it so! Though 

you drive a 
Hard bargain, my lord," said the Lady 

Godiva. 

So she slipped off her gown, and her shoul- 
ders lay bare. 
Gleaming white like the moon on Aonian 
fountains; 

When about them she loosened her curtain 
of hair, 

22 



LADY GODIVA 



'Twas like Night coming over the moun- 
tains ! 

And she blushed, 'neath the veil of her 
wonderful tresses. 

As blushes the Morn 'neath the Sun's first 
caresses ! 

Then she went to the stable and saddled her 
steed. 
Who erected his ears, till he looked like 
a rabbit. 
He was somewhat surprised, as he might be, 
indeed. 
At the lady's unusual ^^ habit"; 

23 



LADY GODIVA 



But allowed her to mount in the masculine 
way, i 

For he couldn't say "No," and he wouldn't 
say "Neigh!" 

So she rode through the town, in the heat 
of the sun. 
For the weather was (luckily) warm as the 
Tropics, 
And the people all drew down their blinds 
— except one, 
On the staff of the local "Town Topics." { 
(Such misconduct produced in the eyes of 
this vile one 

24 i 



LADY GODIVA 



A cataract nearly as large as the Nile 
one !) 

Then Godiva returned, and the Earl had to 
yield, 
(And the paralyzed pressman dictated his 
cable;) 
The tax was remitted, the bells were re- 
pealed. 
And the horse was returned to the stable ; 
While banners were waved from each possible 

quarter. 
Except from the flat of the stricken reporter. 

25 



LADY GODIVA 



Now the Moral is this — if I've fathomed the 

tale 
(Though it needs a more delicate pen to 

explain it) : — 
You can get whatsoever you want, without 

fail, 
If you'll sacrifice all to obtain it. 
You should try to avoid unconventional 

capers. 
And be sure you don't write for Society 

papers. 



26 



Miss Marie Corelli 



AVERY Woman among Men! 
Her paeans, sung in ev'ry quarter. 
Almost persuade Le Gallienne 

To go and get his hair cut shorter; 
When Kipling hears her trumpet-note 
He longs to don a petticoat. 

27 



MISS MARIE CORELLI 



Her praise is sung by old or young. 
From Happy Hampstead to Hoboken, 

Where'er old England's mother-tongue 
Is (ungrammatically) spoken: 

In that supremely simple set 

Which loves the penny novelette. 

When Anglo-Saxon peoples kneel 

Before their literary idol. 
It makes all rival authors feel 

Depressed and almost suicidal; 
They cannot reach within a mile 
Of her sublime suburban style. 

28 




Were she to 711 ingle iv'ith her ink 
A little milk oj human kindness ' 



MISS MARIE CORELLI 



Her modest, unobtrusive ways, 

In sunny Stratford's guide-books graven, 
Her brilliance, lighting with its rays 

The birthplace of the Swan of Avon, 
Must cause the Bard as deep a pain 
As his resemblance to Hall Caine. 

Mere ordinary mortals ask. 

With no desire for picking quarrels, 
Who gave her the congenial task 

Of judging other people's morals? 
Who bade her flay her fellow-men 
With such a frankly feline pen? 

29 



MISS MARIE CORELLI 



And one may seek, and seek in vain, 
The social set she loves to mention, 

Those offspring of her fertile brain. 
Those creatures of her fond invention, 

(She is, or so it would appear. 

Unlucky in her friends, poor dear!) 

For tho', like her, they feel the sway 
Of claptrap sentimental glamour, 

And frequently, like her, give way 
To lapses from our English grammar. 

The victims of her diatribes 

Are not the least as she describes. 

30 



MISS MARIE CORELLI 

To restaurants they seldom go, 
Just for the sake of over-eating; 

While ladies don't play bridge, you know. 
Entirely for the sake of cheating; 

And husbands can be quite nice men, 

And wives are faithful, now and then. 

Were she to mingle with her ink 
A little milk of human kindness, 

She would not join, I dare to think. 
To chronic social color-blindness 

An outlook bigoted and narrow 

As that of some provincial sparrow. 

31 



MISS MARIE CORELLI 



But still, perhaps, it might affect 

Her literary circulation. 
If she were tempted to neglect 

Her talent for vituperation; 
Since work of this peculiar kind 
Delights the groundling's curious mind. 

For while, of course, from day to day. 

Her popularity increases. 
As, in an artless sort of way. 

She tears Society to pieces. 
Her sense of humor, so they tell us. 
Makes even Alfred Austin jealous! 

32 



MISS MARIE CORELLI 



Yet even bumpkins^ by and by, 
(Such is the spread of education) 

May view with cold^ phlegmatic eye 
The fruits of her imagination. 

And learn to temper their devotion 

With slight, if adequate, emotion. 
• • • • • 

Dear Miss Corelli: — Should your eyes 
Peruse this page ('tis my ambition I), 

Be sure that I apologize 
In any suitable position 

For having weakly imitated 

The style that you yourself created, 

33 



MISS MARIE CORELLI 



I cannot fancy to attain 

To heights of personal invective 
Which you, with subtler pen and brain. 

Have learnt to render so effective; 
I follow dimly in your trail ; 
Forgive me, therefore, if I fail ! 



34 



Mrs. Mary Baker Eddy 



HAVE you a pain all down your 
back? 
A feeling of intense prostration? 
Are you anaemic, for the lack 

Of proper circulation? 
With bloodshot eye and hand unsteady? 
Pray send at once for Mrs. Eddy. 

35 



MRS. MARY BAKER EDDY 

The Saint and Prophetess is she 

Of what is known as Christian Science; 
And you can lean on Mrs. E. 

With absolute reliance; 
For she will shortly make it plain 
That there is no such thing as pain. 

The varied ailments on your list 

Which cause you such extreme vexation 
Are nothing more, she will insist, 
Than mere imagination. 
'Tis so with illness or disease; 
Nothing exists . . . except her fees ! 

36 



MRS. MARY BAKER EDDY 

A friend of mine had not been taught 

This doctrine, I regret to say. 
He fell downstairs, or so he thought, 

And broke his neck, one day. 
Had Mrs. Eddy come along. 
She could have shown him he was wrong. 

She could have told him (or his wraith) 

That stairs and necks have no existence, 
That persons with sufficient faith 

Can fall from any distance. 
And that he wasn't in the least 
What local papers called ^Meceased." 

37 



MRS. MARY BAKER EDDY 

Of ills to which the flesh is heir 

She is decidedly disdainful; 
But once, or so her friends declare, 

Her teeth became so painful 
That, tho' she knew they couldn't be. 
She had them taken out, to see. 

Afflictions of the lame or halt. 

Which other people view with terror. 
To her denote some moral fault, 

Some form of mental error. 
While doctors probe or amputate. 
She simply heals you while you wait. 

38 



MRS. MARY BAKER EDDY 

My brother, whom you may have seen. 

Possessed a limp, a very slight one; 
His leg, the left, had always been 

Much shorter than the right one ; 
But Mrs. Eddy came his way. 
And . . . well, just look at him to-day! 

At healing she had grown so deft 

That when she finished with my brother. 
His crippled leg, I mean the left, 

Was longer than the other! 
And now he's praying, day and night. 
For faith to lengthen out the right. 

39 



MRS. MARY BAKER EDDY 

So let it be our chief concern 
To set diseases at defiance. 
Contriving, as the truths we learn 

Of so-called Christian Science, 
To live from illnesses exempt, — 
Or else to die in the attempt! 



40 



Mrs. Grundy 



WHEN lovely Woman stoops to 
smoke 
(A vice in which she often 
glories), 
Or sees the somewhat doubtful joke 

In after-dinner stories. 
Who is it to her bedroom rushes 
To hide the fervor of her blushes? 

41 



MRS. GRUNDY 



When Susan's skirt's a trifle short, 

Or Mary's manner rather skittish, 
Who is it, with a fretful snort 

(So typically British), 
Emits prolonged and startled cries, 
Suggestive of a pained surprise? 

Who is it, tell me, in effect. 

Who loves to centre her attentions 
On all who wilfully neglect 

Society's conventions. 
And seems eternally imbued 
With saponaceous rectitude? 

42 



MRS. GRUNDY 



'Tis Mrs. Grundy, deaf and blind 
To anything the least romantic, 
Combining with a narrow mind 

A point of view pedantic. 
Since no one in the world can stop her 
From thinking ev'rything improper. 

The picture or the marble bust 

At any public exhibition 
Evokes her unconcealed disgust 

And rouses her suspicion, 
If human forms are shown to us 
In puris naturalibus, 

+3 



MRS. GRUXDY 



The bare, in anv sense or shape, 

She Icx^ks upon as wrong or taulty; 
Piano-legs she likes to drape. 

It thev are too deeolPte; 
For lonii with horror she has viewed 
The naked Truth, tor being nude. 

On modern manners that efface 

The formal modes ot introduction 
She is at once prepared to place 

The verv worst construction,- 
And trowns, suspicious and sardonic, 
On friendships that are termed Platonic 



MRS. GRUNDY 



The English restaurants must close 

At twelve o'clock at night on Sunday, 
To suit (or so we may suppose) 

The taste of Mrs. Grundy: 
On week-days, thirty minutes later. 
Ejected guests revile the waiter. 

A sense of humor she would vote 

The sign of mental dissipations; 
She scorns whatever might promote 

The gaiety of nations ; 
Of lawful fun she seems no fonder 
Than of the noxious doohlontonder ! 

+ 5 



MRS. GRUNDY 



And if you wish to make her blench 

And snap her teeth together tightly, 
Say something in Parisian French, 

And close one optic slightly, 
'' Rien ne va plus ! Enfin, alors ! " 
She leaves the room and slams the door ! 

O Mrs. Grundy, do, I beg. 

To false conclusions cease from rushing. 
And learn to name the human leg 

Without profusely blushing! 
No longer be (don't think me rude) 
That unalluring thing, the prude ! 

46 



MRS. GRUNDY 



No more patrol the world, I pray. 

In search of trifling social errors, 
Let ^'What will Mrs. Grundy say?" 
No longer have its terrors; 
Leave diatribe and objurgation 
To Mrs. Chant and Carrie Nation ! 



47 



Mrs. Christopher Columbus 



THE bride grows pale beneath her 
veil, 
The matron, for the nonce, is dumb. 
Who listens to the tragic tale 

Of Mrs. Christopher Columb : 
Who lived and died (so says report) 
A widow of the herbal sort. 

4-9 



MRS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 

Her husband upon canvas wings 

Would brave the Ocean, tempest-tost; 

He had a cult for finding things 
Which nobody had ever lost. 

And Mrs. C. grew almost frantic 

When he discovered the Atlantic. 

But nothing she could do or say 

Would keep her Christopher at home; 

Without delay he sailed away 

Across what poets call "the foam," 

While neighbors murmured/' What a shame! " 

And wished their husbands did the same. 

50 




^''And so he daily left her side 
To travel o' er the ocea n fa r 



MRS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 

He ventured on the highest C's 

That reared their heads above the bar, 

Knowing the compass and the quays 
Like any operatic star ; 

And funny friends who watched him do so 

Would call him ^^ Robinson Caruso." 

But Mrs. C. remained indoors, 

And poked the fire and wound the clocks. 
Amused the children, scrubbed the floors. 

Or darned her absent husband's socks. 
(For she was far too sweet and wise 
To darn the great explorer's eyes.) 

51 



MRS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 

And when she chanced to look around 
At all the couples she had known. 

And realized how few had found 
A home as peaceful as her own, 

She saw how pleasant it may be 

To wed a chronic absentee. 

Her husband's absence she enjoyed, 
Nor ever asked him where he went, 

Thinking him harmlessly employed 
Discovering some Continent. 

Had he been always in, no doubt. 

Some day she would have found him out. 

52 



MRS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 

And so he daily left her side 

To travel o'er the ocean far, 
And she who, like the bard, had tried 

To ^' hitch her wagon to a star," 
Though she was harnessed to a comet, 
Got lots of satisfaction from it. 

To him returning from the West 
She proved a perfect anti-dote. 

Who loosed his Armour (beef compress'd) 
And sprayed his "automobile throat"; 

His health she kept a jealous eye on. 

And played PerUna to his lion ! 

53 



MRS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 

And when she got him home again. 
And so could wear the jewels rare 

Which Isabella, Queen of Spain, 
Entrusted to her husband's care, 

Her monetary wealth was "far 

Beyond the dreams of caviar ! " 

• • • • e 

A melancholy thing it is 

How few have known or understood 
The manifold advantages 

Of such herbaceous widowhood ! 
(What is it ruins married lives 
But husbands . . . not to mention wives?) 

54 



MRS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 

O wedded couples of to-day, 

Pray take these principles to heart, 

And copy the Columbian way 
Of living happily apart. 

And so, to you, at any rate. 

Shall marriage be a "blessed state." 



55 



Dame Rumor 



I SHOULD like to remark that Dame 
Rumor 
Is the most unalluring of jades. 
She has little or no sense of humor. 

And her fables are worse than George 
Ade's. 
(Or rather, I mean, if the reader prefers, 
That the fables of Ade are much better 
than hers!) 

57 



DAME RUMOR 



Her appearance imbues one with loathing, 

From her jaundiced, malevolent eyes 
To the tinsel she cares to call clothing. 
Which is merely a patchwork of lies. 
For her garments are such that a child 

could see through. 
And her blouse (need I add?) is the famed 
Peek-a-boo ! 

She is wholly devoid of discretion. 
She is utterly wanting in tact. 

She's a gossip by trade and profession. 
And she much prefers fiction to fact. 

58 




^'^ Where the spinsters at tea are collected^ 
Her arrival is hailed zuith delight'' 



DAME RUMOR 



She is seldom veracious, and always unkind, 
And she moves to and fro with the speed 
of the wind. 



She resembles the men who ('tis fabled) 
Tumble into the Packingtown vats, 

Who are boiled there, and bottled, and 
labelled 
For the tables of true democrats: 

Pickled souls who are canned for the public 

to buy, 

« 

And (like her) have a finger in every pie ! 

59 



DAME RUMOR 



With a step that is silent and stealthy, 
Or an earsplitting clamor and noise, 

She disturbs the repose of the wealthy. 
Or the peace which the pauper enjoys. 

And, however securely the doors may be 
shut. 

She can always gain access to palace or hut. 

Where the spinsters at tea are collected, 
Her arrival is hailed with delight; 

She is welcomed, adored, and respected 
In each newspaper office at night; 

For her presence imprints an original seal 

60 ; 



DAME RUMOR 



On an otherwise commonplace journal or 
meal. 

She has nothing in common with Virtue^ 
And with Truth she was never allied; 
If she hasn't yet managed to hurt you, 

It can't be from not having tried ! 
For the poison of adders is under her 

tongue, 
And you're lucky indeed, if you've never 
been stung. 

Are you statesman, or author, or artist. 
With a perfectly blameless career.? 

6i 



DAME RUMOR 



Are your talents and wits of the smartest. 
And your conscience abnormally clear? 
^'He's a saint!" says Dame Rumor, and 

smiles like the Sphinx. 
"He's a hero!" (She adds:) "What a pity 

he drinks ! " 

Gentle Reader, keep clear of her clutches ! 

O beware of her voice, I entreat ! 
Be you journalist, dowager duchess, 

Or just merely the Man in the Street. 

And I beg of you not to encourage a jade 

Who, if once she is started, can never be 

stayed. 

62 



The Cry of the Children 



[On the subject of infant education it has been suggested that 
more advantageous results might be obtained if, instead of filling 
children's minds with such nonsense as fairy-tales, stories were read 
to them about Julius Caesar.] 

OMY Brothers, do you hear the 
children weeping? 
Do you note the teardrops tumbling from 

their eyes? 
To the school-house they reluctantly are 
creeping, 

63 



THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 

Discontented with the teaching it supplies. 
At the quality of modern education 

Little urchins may with justice look 
askance. 
Since it panders to a child's imagination. 
And encourages romance. 

Do you see that toddling baby with a bib 
on. 
How his eyes with silent misery are dim ? 
He is yearning for the chance of reading 
Gibbon ; 
But his teachers give him nothing else 
but Grimm! 

64 




^^He is ye ami 



yearn, ng for the charue ofreadin, GiHo.,- 



THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 

What a handicap to infantile ambition! 
'Tis enough to make the brightest bant- 
ling fume, 
To be gammoned with an Andrew Lang 
edition, 

When he longs for Hume, sweet 
Hume ! 

See that tiny one, what boredom he 
expresses ! 
What intolerance his frequent yawns 
evince 

Of the fairy-tales where beautiful prin- 
cesses 

65 



THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 

Are delivered from a dragon by a prince! 
How he curses the pedantic institution 
Where he can't obtain such volumes as i 
^^Le Cid," I 

Or that masterpiece on "Social Evolution" 
By another kind of Kidd ! 

Do you hear the children weeping, O my , 
Brothers ? j 

They are crying for Max Miiller and 
Carlyle. 

Tho' Hans Andersen may satisfy their 
mothers, , 

66 



THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 

They are weary of so immature a style. 
And their time is far too brief to be 
expended 
On such nonsense as their "rude fore- 
fathers " read ; 
For they know the days of sentiment are 
ended. 

And that Chivalry is dead! 

Oh remember that the pillars of the nation 
Are the children that we discipline to-day; 

That to give them a becoming education 
You must rear them in a reasonable way! 

67 



THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 

Let us guard them from the glamour of 

the mystics, 
Who would throw a ray of sunshine on 

their lives! 
Let us feed each helpless atom on statistics, 

And pray Heaven he survives ! 

Let us cast away the out-of-date traditions. 
Which our poets and romanticists have 
sung ! 

Let us sacrifice the senseless superstitions 
That illuminate the fancies of the young ! 

If we limit our instruction to the ^^ reals," 

68 



THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 

We may prove to ev'ry baby from the 
start, 
The futility of cherishing ideals 
In his golden little heart! 



69 



The Cry of the Riders 



[With steady but increasing pace the world is approaching a 
point at which the cleverness of the young will amount to a social 
problem. Already things are getting uncomfortable for persons of 
age and sobriety, whose notion of happiness is to ruminate a few 
solid and simple ideas in freedom from disturbance. — Macmillans 
Magazine.^ 

OMY Children, do you hear your 
elders sighing ? 
Do you wonder that senility should find 
, Your encyclopaedic knowledge some- 
what trying 

71 



THE CRY OF THE ELDERS 

To the ordinary mind ? 
In the heyday of a former generation, 
Some respect for our intelligence was 
shown ; 
And it's hard for us to cotton 
To the fact that you've forgotten 
More than we have ever known ! 

O my Children, do you hear your elders 

snoring. 
When the "chassis" of your motors 

you discuss? 
Do you wonder that your "shop" is 

rather boring 

72 



THE CRY OF THE ELDERS 

To such simple souls as us ? * 
Do you marvel that your dreary conversation 
Should evoke the yawns that ^' lie too 
deep for tears," 
When you lecture to your betters 
About "tanks" and "carburettors," 
About "sparking-plugs" and "gears"? 

O my Children, in the season of your 
nonage, 
(Which delightful days no longer now 
exist ! ) 

*^^As us" is not grammar. — Publishers' Reader. 
" As we " is not verse. — H. G. 

73 



THE CRY OF THE ELDERS ; 

We could join with other fogeys of our I 
own age i 

In a quiet game of whist. 
Notv^ at bridge, our very experts are 
defeated 
By some beardless but impertinent 
young cub, 

Who converts our silent table 

I 

To a very Tow'r of Babel, ' 

At the Knickerbocker Club! 

\ 

O my Children, we no longer are respected ! ' 
'Tis a fact we older fellows must deplore, i 

7+ I 



THE CRY OF THE ELDERS 

Whose opinions and whose judgments are 
neglected. 

As they never were before. 
We may tender good advice to our 
descendants; 
We may offer them our money, if we 

will y 

Lo, the one shall be forsaken, 
And the other shall be taken 
(Like the women at the mill!). 

O my Children, note the moral (like a 
kernel) 

7S 



THE CRY OF THE ELDERS 

I have hidden in the centre of my song ! 
Do not contradict a relative maternal. 

If she happens to be wrong! 
Be indulgent to the author of your being; 
Never show him the contempt that you 
must feel; 
Treat him tolerantly, rather, 
Since a man who is your father 
Can't be wholly imbecile! 

O my Children, we, the older generation. 
At whose feet you ought (in theory) to 
sit, 

76 



THE CRY OF THE ELDERS 

Are bewildered by your mental penetration. 

We are dazzled by your wit! 
But we hopefully anticipate a future 

When the airship shall replace the 
motor-'bus, 
And your children, when they meet 

you, 
Shall inevitably treat you 

Just as you are treating us! 



11 



An Rpithalamium 



LONGWORTH— ROOSEVELT, February 17TH, 1906 

HAIL, bride and bridegroom of 
the West! 
Your troth irrevocably plighted! 
Your act of Union doubly blest. 

Your single States United, 
With full approval and assent 
Of populace and President! 

79 



AN EPITHALAMIUM 



Let Spangled Banners wave on high. 
To greet the maiden as she passes! 
See how the proud Proconsul's eye 

Grows dim behind his glasses! 
How fond the heart that beats beneath 
Those pleated Presidential teeth! 

The bishop has received his cheque. 

The final slipper has been thrown; 
With rice down each respective neck. 

The couple stand alone. 
To them, at last, the fates provide 
A privacy so long denied. 

80 




How glad the happy pair must be 

Ihat Hymen's bonds have set them free 



AN EPITHALAMIUM 



Letters and wires, from near and far, 

Lie thickly piled on ev'ry table; 
The peaceful message from the Czar, 

The Kaiser's kindly cable ; 
The well-expressed congratulations 
From Heads of all the Sister Nations. 

Rich gifts, as countless as the sand 
That cloaks the desert of Sahara, 
From fish-slice to piano (grand). 
From toast-rack to tiara. 
Still overwhelm the lucky maid 
(With heavy duties to be paid!). 

8i 



AN EPITHALAMIUM 



See, hand-in-hand, the couple stand ! 

(The guests their homeward journey take, 
Concealing their emotion — and 

Some lumps of wedding cake!) 
How glad the happy pair must be 
That Hymen's bonds have set them free ! 

Free of the curious Yellow Press, 

Free of the public's prying gaze, 
Of all the troubles that obsess 

The path of hances ! 
Alone at last, and safely screen'd 
From onslaughts of the kodak-fiend! 

82 



AN EPITHALAMIUM 



The Bride, who bore without demur 
The wiles of artists photographic, 
Of vulgar crowds that gaped at her, 

Congesting all the traffic, 
Can shop, once more, in perfect peace. 
Without the help of the police. 

Arrayed in stylish trav'lling dress, 

Behold, with blushes she departs! 
The free Republican Princess 

A captive Queen of Hearts ! 
(Captive to Cupid, need I say? 
But Queen in ev'ry other way!) 

83 



AN EPITHALAMIUM 



And this must surely be the hour 

For Anglo-Saxons, ev'rywhere, 
With cousinly regard, to show'r 
Good wishes on the pair; 
Borne on the bosom of the breeze, 
Our blessings speed across the seas! 

Hail, Bride and Bridegroom of the West! 

(Pray pardon my redundant lyre) 
May your united lives be blest 

With all your hearts' desire! 
Accept the warm felicitations 
Of fond, if distant, blood -relations ! 

84 



The Self-Made Father to 
His Ready- Made Son 



(an open letter) 

MY offspring: — Ere you raise the 
glass, 
To irrigate your ardent throttle; 
Ere once again you gladly pass 

The bottle; 
Take heed that your prevailing passion 
Be not completely out of fashion. 

85 



THE SELF-MADE FATHER TO 

No longer does the Prodigal 

Expend his nights in drunken frolic; 
Or pass his days in revels al- 

-Coholic ; 
For, nowadays, a glass de trop 
Is not considered comme il faut. 

No longer do the youthful fall, 

Like leaf or partridge in October; 
For they, if anything at all. 

Are sober. 
(I mean the boys, — don't be absurd! 
And not the foliage or the bird.) 

86 



HIS READY-MADE SON 

No longer arm-in-arm they roam, 

Despite constabulary warning. 
Declaring that they won't go home 

Till morning ! 
With bursts of bacchanalian song, 
And jokes as broad as they are long, 

No more they wander to-and-fro, 

Exchanging incoherent greetings — 
The kind in vogue at Caledo- 
-Nian Meetings 
(Behavior that we all condemn, 
Especially at 3 a. m.). 

87 



THE SELF-MADE FATHER TO 

Yes; fashions change — and well they may! 

No longer, at the dinner-table, 
Do persons drink as much as they 

Are able; 
And seek the hospitable floor. 
When they have drunk a trifle more. 

My nasal hue, incarnadine. 

Shall not, perhaps, be wholly wasted. 
If sons of mine but leave their wine 

Untasted; 
And vanquish, with deserving merit. 
The varied vices they inherit. 

88 



HIS READY-MADE SON 

Yes, Offspring, I rejoice to think 

That, shunning my example truly, 
You never may be led to drink 

Unduly. 
It is indeed a blessed thought! 
Now, will you kindly pass the port.? 



89 



The Author to His Hostess 



(an open letter) 

[Very few English men of letters enjoy a desirable social position. 
To be sure, they are frequently invited to functions, where they are 
treated with insistent affability by persons belonging to the higher 
classes ; but the sort of position to be obtained in this way is 
insecure, and unpleasant to any save those of adamantine cheek. — 
Current Magazine. '\ 

DEAR LADY,— When you bade 
me come 
To grace your crowded ^^Kettle- 
drum," 
And mingle in the best society; 
When Melba sang, and Elman played, 



THE AUTHOR TO HIS HOSTESS 

And waiters handed lemonade 

(Tempering music with sobriety), 
I never had the least suspicion 
Of my precarious position. 

But now, with opened eyes, I leap 
To this conclusion, shrewd and deep, 

(What cerebral agility !) : 
Your compliments were insincere, 
Your hospitality was mere 

"Insistent affability!" 
And I, a foolish man of letters. 
Who thought to mingle with his betters! 

92 




'/ wonder why they look such frights 



THE AUTHOR TO HIS HOSTESS 

Ah me! How pride precedes a fall! 
That one who haunted "rout" or ball, 

When invitations were acquirable. 
Should see himself as others see, 
Becoming suddenly, like me, 

A social "undesirable"; 
Invading the selectest clique 
With truly adamantine cheek ! 

How proud an air I used to wear! 
When titled persons turned to stare, 

I blushed like a geranium. 
When lovely ladies softly said: 

93 



THE AUTHOR TO HIS HOSTESS 

And might debase my talents to 

Additional inanities. 
The Poet has no business there: 
Que ferait-il dans cette gal ere? 

Ah, lonely is the Author's lot! 
Assuming, if he hath it not, 

A suitable humility. 
For when his daily work is done. 
He must inevitably shun 

The homes of the Nobility, 
As, with dejected steps, he passes 
To supper with the middle classes ! 

96 



On the Decline of Gentility 
Among the T^oung 



(suggested by MR, MAX BEERBOHM) 

O YOUTH uncouth, who slouchest 
by, 

Along the crowded public street, 
An eyeglass in thy languid eye, 

Brown boots upon thy feet, 
A loose umbrella in thy grip, 
A toothpick pendent from thy lip. 

97 



ON THE DECLINE OF GENTILITY 

Much I deplore thy clumsy gait, 

Thy drab sartorial display, 
So wholly inappropriate 

To this august highway; 
How can a man in such attire 
Set any spinster's heart on fire? 

Thou art in dress no epicure, 

By weight of fashions overladen; 
Thy tawdry togs do not allure 

The soul of every maiden; 
They sound no echoing color-note 
To her tempestuous petticoat. 

98 







^^S}?iall wonder she receives a shock each time 
she views thy billycock 



AMONG THE YOUNG 



Her stylish skirt, her dainty blouse, 

Are crepe-de-chine, or bombazine*; 
Compare the texture of thy trous: 

With their chromatic sheen; 
To what abysm of taste we reach 
By the Observance of thy Breech! 

Think what she pays her modiste for 
Those hats of questionable shapes. 
Surmounted by a seagull or 

Some imitation grapes! 



* Impossible. — Publishers' Reader. 
These ones were. — H. G. 

99 



ON THE DECLINE OF GENTILITY 

Small wonder she receives a shock 
Each time she views thy "billycock"! 

Observe how like an autumn leaf 
The colors of the male canary. 
The garb of each New Zealand chief 

Who woos his Little Maori; 
The savage mind has thus designed 
A dress to please its womankind. 

And tho' I would not have thee go 

As far as primal man or beast, 
To lovely woman thou should'st show 
Some deference at least, 

lOO 



AMONG THE YOUNG 



And give a thought of what to wear 
Upon the public thoroughfare. 

And should'st thou wish to walk aright, 

Let Mr. Beerbohm be thy mould; 
Sedate yet courtly, and polite 

As any beau of old; 
Yea, plant thy footsteps in the tracks 
Of our inimitable Max! 

Enclose thy larynx in a stock 

(As though afflicted with the fever); 
And in the place of ^'billycock" 

Procure a bristling '^beaver"; 

lOI 



ON THE DECLINE OF GENTILITY 

And practise, not I hope in vain, 
The "conduct of a clouded cane." 

If thou consentest thus to act. 

In scorn of popular convention, 
Thy bearing shall indeed attract 
Much feminine attention; 
As day by day, in brilliant hue. 
Thy figure fills Fifth Avenue. 



I02 



^'Lochinvar'^ 



(with apologies to SCOTT AND SWINBURNE) 

WHEN the shadow-shapes shone 
like a shaddock, 
Where the sunset had kissed 
them to flame, 
On his palfrey, the pick of the paddock. 
With his sword in its scabbard, he came! 
In the glamour of amorous passion 

He would blaze like a seasoned cigar; 

103 



^^LOCHINVAR" 



And he fought in a similar fashion, j 

Did Young Lochinvar! ! 

i 
By the fences and fens unafFrighted, 

And unstopt by the stream in its spate, 

In a lather, at last, he alighted. 

And he knocked at the Netherbys' 

gate. 

'Twas too late! (As he doubtless had 

dreaded.) 

He perceived his particular "star" 

To a blackguard about to be wedded, ! 

Did Young Lochinvar! - 

I 

104. ! 




She is 7?iine !' he announces^ adjournin^ 
To the distant hoj'i-zon afar 



"LOCHINVAR" 



But he passed through the portal so proudly 
To the room where the gifts were dis- 
played, 
That old Netherby called to him loudly 
(For the bridegroom, poor fool, was 
afraid). 
'^Is it blood you are bent upon shedding? 

With a murder this marriage to mar? 
Dv to waltz do you wish at the wedding, 
My Young Lochinvar?" 

He replied, ^^Tho' 'twere useless to smother 
My love for the maid at your sidej 

I OS 



"LOCHINVAR" 



Tho' my Helen be bound to another, \ 

I shall trust to the turn of the tied. | 

As I drink to her squint and her freckles,' 

I'll remark how few ladies there are 
Who would shrink from a share of the 
shekels j 

Of Young Lochinvar." \ 

Then he pledged her in port, so politely j 
(Tho' her mother lamented his taste), | 

And she smiled at him ever so slightly. 
As he settled his arm round her waist. 

When he drew her direct to the dancers,! 

1 06 



"LOCHINVAR" 



The Bohemian band struck a bar, 
And she found herself leading the Lancers 
With Young Lochinvar! 

Oh, the beauty and grace are so vivid 

Of this perfectly parallel pair, 
That the parents grow purple and livid, 

And the bridegroom is tearing his hair; 
While the bridesmaids talk ten to the 
dozen. 
Saying: ^^ Goodness, what gabies we are. 
Not to marry our exquisite cousin 
To Young Lochinvar!" 

107 



"LOCHINVAR" 



Then the girl by her partner is beckoned 
To the door, where a charger they find; 

To the saddle he springs in a second, 
And he lifts her up lightly behind; 

"She is mine!" he announces, adjourning 
To the distant horizon afar, 

"Till the cattle to roost are returning!"* 
Says Young Lochinvar. 

O the tumult! The tumbling of tables! 
O the stress of the scene that succeeds! 



* " Till the cows come home ": an old Eng:lish saying, denoting 
eternity. 

1 08 



"LOCHINVAR" 



O the stir on the stairs, — in the stables! 

O the stamping and saddling of steeds! 
But the bride has eluded them surely; 

In the room of some kind Registrar, 
She is now being wedded securely 
To Young Lochinvar ! 



109 



ylbbreviation s Artful Aid 



THE Bard, at times 
Is stumped for rhymes. 
Without the least excuse. 
He can defy 
Such moments by 

Abbreviation's use. 
And gain the grat: 

III 



ABBREVIATION'S ARTFUL AID 

Of friend or neighb: 
Without an at: 
Of extra lab: 

So simp: a rule 
May seem pecul: 

And make the crit: indig: 
What matter if 
The scans: is diff: 

The meaning too ambig: ? 
The net result, 

Lacon: and punct: 
Is worth a mult: 

Of needless unct: 

112 



ABBREVIATION'S ARTFUL AID 

We long for sile: 
From folks who pile 

Their worldly Pel: on Oss: 
Extremely nox: 
And quite intox: 

By their exhub: verbos: 
We curse their imp: 

In manner dras: 
And fail to symp: 

With their loquac: 

In House of Rep: 
Applause is tep: 

113 



ABBREVIATION'S ARTFUL AID 

For periphrastic Pol: 
Reviewers sniff 
At auth: prolif: 

With semiannual vol: 
But we can pard: 

However peev: 
The minor bard 

Who will abbrev: 

With pen and ink 
In close propinq: 

The Poet, lucky fell:! 
Avoiding troub: 

114 



ABBREVIATION'S ARTFUL AID 

May give his pub: 

The cred: for some intell: 
And like an orph: 

In pose recumb: 
In arms of Morph: 

Securely slumb: 

Let corks explode: 
With brand: and sod: 

Ye wearers of the mot: ! 
Decant the cham: 
(What matt: the dam:?) 

And empt: the flowing bott: ! 

"5 



ABBREVIATION'S ARTFUL AID 

And ne'er surren: 

The Laureate's palm. 
His haunch of ven: 

And butt of Malm: ! 



ii6 



Author's ylftword 



How I have labored, night and 
day, 
Just like the hero of a novel. 
To drive the hungry wolf away 
From my baronial hovel. 
To keep the bailiffs from my home, 
By finishing this bulky tome. 

117 



AUTHOR'S AFTWORD 



To such a trying mental strain 

My intellect is far from fitted, 
Tho' if I had an ounce more brain 

I should be quite half-witted, 
And when I wander in my mind 
I am most difficult to find. 

The sort of life for which I care 

Is one combining Peace and Plenty 
With laisser aller^ laisser faire^ 

And dolce far niente. 
(The heart of ev'ry Bridge-fiend jumps: 
Dolce . . 'tis sweet to make ^^No Trumps.") 

ii8 



AUTHOR'S AFTWORD 



I shrink from work in any shape, — 

Too clearly do these pages show it, — 
But work is what one can't escape 

And be a Minor Poet; 
And critics I may well defy 
To find a minor bard than I. 

I ought to live out 'Frisco way, 

Where working is considered silly. 
As Greeley (Horace) used to say, — 

Or was it Collier (Willie)?— 
^'Go West, young man" (I understand), 
^^Go West and blow up with the land!" 



119 



AUTHOR'S AFTWORD 



Were I as full of zeal and fun 

As Balzac, who could drudge so gaily. 
Or diligent as Peter Dunne, 

I might accomplish daily 
An ode of Pleasure or of Passion 
In Ella Wheeler Wilcox fashion; 

But, as it is, I sit and toil. 

Consuming time and ink and curses 
And pints of precious midnight oil 

To perpetrate these verses. 
If writing them be dull indeed, 
Alas! what must they be to read! 

I20 



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